And with that, she was gone.
103
Helen walked away from the hotel as fast as she could. What a fool. What a stupid, naive, desperate fool. What kind of copper was she? To latch on to the vulnerability and grief of a bereaved father and somehow hope to find something for herself there? She had wanted to feed off it. No, that wasn’t right. She had hoped to find comfort in it, a sense of peace, a place to belong.
What must he think of her now? She had badly misjudged the situation, imposing her own neediness on a man who had neither feeling nor thought for her. He was bored by her weakness, and who could blame him for that? He had enough to deal with as it was.
Helen approached her bike—she didn’t know where she was going, but she just wanted to be away from here, away from the scene of her latest mistake. But as she unlocked her helmet, she saw it. In her side mirror, a figure approaching her fast. He had come from theshadows, had the element of surprise and was nearly upon her. Without hesitation, she spun round, swinging her helmet in a fast, decisive arc. The man raised his hands, but too late—the helmet connecting forcefully with his head. He reeled backward and, dropping the helmet, Helen was on him in a flash, forcing him down to the pavement. She raised her clenched fist and brought it down in a rabbit punch to the neck.
But her blow lost its impact, her arm slowing on its downward trajectory as she recognized her assailant.
Jake.
Her blow glanced off his neck and he now raised his hands to his face to fend off further attack. A deep cut over his left eye was already bleeding heavily.
“Jesus Christ, Jake. What the hell are you doing? I could have killed you.”
“You’re telling me,” he countered angrily, pushing her off and clambering unsteadily to his feet.
“What on earth are you doing here? Creeping up on me like that?”
“Were you withhim?”
And suddenly it all made sense.
“Dear God—have you been following me?”
Jake stared at her, defiant, but he didn’t deny it.
“How long have you—”
“Nearly a week.”
Helen hung her head. Had she had a sense that someone was following her? Yes, that car on the return from Northampton. She had dismissed this and other vague inklings of alarm. She never gave them much credence—she knew how to take care of herself—and she never expected it to be Jake. Hadn’t they come to an arrangement?
“Do you love him?” Jake asked, shattering her illusions.
“For God’s sake, Jake, it’s nothing like th—”
“Do you?”
“Go to hell,” Helen spat back, turning and climbing onto her bike.
“Please don’t go. We need to talk.”
Helen paused for a second, then slipped on her helmet. “There’s nothing more to say.”
She climbed on her bike and sped off, Jake growing smaller and smaller in her mirrors. Right now if he vanished altogether she wouldn’t have cared. This evening had proved one thing and one thing alone. Her life was one massive, bad joke. And the gods would never tire of laughing at her.
104
She slid the laptop out of the case and placed it carefully on the kitchen table. She was alone now—the house felt crushingly silent—but even so she hesitated. Was it weakness to give in? Or was it just acknowledging a basic truth?
Tim had left an hour ago. He had said his piece and gone. Events were moving so quickly now and despite the endless chats that would have to take place—the window dressing of a marriage breakup—she could tell already that Tim had made up his mind. There would be no way back from this. He didn’t love her anymore. It seemed strange to think such a bald, nasty thought, but that didn’t stop it being true. He had found someone who made him joyful and happy. That was no longer the case with his wife.
Strangely Ceri didn’t want to fight for him. Not because she didn’t love him—she did and the thought of being a discarded wifestung bitterly—but because she had always shied away from a losing battle. Why prolong the agony? She chided herself for such resignation—wasn’t it the done thing for a betrayed wife to fight for her man?—but suddenly she didn’t seem to have the energy or will. What was happening to her?
She crossed to the fridge and poured herself a glass of water. Her emotions were all over the place today—deep misery mixed with a strange sense of anticipation—and she wanted a moment to gather herself. She seemed to be constantly on the point of either laughing or crying today. Pulling herself together, she walked back to the kitchen table and sat down.
